A/N: Welcome to the ultimate SVU fic ever written, ever. Standard disclaimers: Don't own them, not making any money. No authors were harmed in the making of this fic. This fic is not based on any actual person or event. The opinions expressed are not representative of the author's.
Munch sat at his desk, desperately clutching his photos of JFK and Area 51. "You're wrong! The conspiracies are real!"
"Who are you talking to now?" Fin asked, exasperated.
"The people telling me I'm crazy!" Munch said.
"So, everyone on planet Earth? You may need a speaker or something," Fin said.
"Fine, I will prove to you that they are real!" Munch exclaimed.
"How d'you plan to do that?" Fin asked, leaning back
"I'm going to find the ultimate conspiracy. Bigger than Area 51, bigger than 9/11, bigger than the moon landing. Even bigger than the Loch Ness monster," John said.
"You mean..." Fin began.
Munch nodded. "Bigfoot!"
"Okay," Fin said, nodding. "So, I guess it'll be a long time before I see you again. Bye."
"Bye," Munch replied. He didn't even bother telling anyone or asking for time off because this was so important and he knew they'd understand.
"Okay, Bigfoot, where are you?" he murmured as he climbed onto the plane. Thinking had made time speed up so he barely registered the cab ride.
"Oh, you're looking for Bigfoot too?" A young woman asked from the seat next to him.
Munch looked at her and fell in love immediately. She had blonde hair and blue eyes, but she was completely different from anyone with blonde hair and blue eyes he'd met before. She was absolutely perfect and he could tell that she was a genius too. He wanted to marry her as soon as they landed. Or maybe even on the plane.
"Yeah, I am. I'm John Munch. What's your name?" he asked.
"I'm Maryanne Susan Jones. Call me Mary Sue," she requested. "Want to join with me to find Bigfoot?"
Munch nodded. He had a feeling this would be a life-changing quest, and not just because of the possibility of finding the most elusive monster of all time.
Olivia huffed, pacing around the precinct. "I don't get it!" she cried. "Why am I still childless? My uterus shouldn't be this empty!"
"Have you had sex?" Fin asked cautiously.
"Oh, are you asking to be my baby's daddy? That's so sweet of you!" Olivia gushed. "Thank you Fin, thank you!"
"Olivia, stop it! Elliot's the only one around here with sperm that potent," Fin chastised. "I was asking if you've done that because if you haven't, you can't get pregnant."
"Of course I haven't! Every man on the planet except for the few I know and trust is a complete rapist scumbag and none of you will do it!" Olivia said.
"Well, Liv, that's probably why you aren't pregnant yet," Fin said patiently. "How about looking into adoption?"
"The agency turned me down! It was right around when Elliot asked me if I wanted to be a mom too, so I thought he would help, but he told me his wife wouldn't let him! How unreasonable is that?" Olivia huffed.
"You do know there is more than one adoption agency, right? And what about sperm donation?" Fin asked.
"But those don't count!" Olivia said. "The only way it'll be real is if I have this baby on my own or if it's Calvin. Oh, there's an idea! Let's go to Vermont and get him from his grandparents! EVERYONE knows what a great mom I'd be and they'll be happy to fork their kids over!" Olivia nodded in satisfaction.
"No, Liv, that won't- oh, nevermind," Fin huffed. "I got a date with Mel. See ya."
With that, he walked towards the morgue.
"Hey honey!" Melinda greeted as Fin walked into the morgue, just to see her. There wasn't a case she or Fin should have been working on and they didn't even need to use their lunch break for it.
"Hey Mel-Bear!" Fin chirped. He leaned forward and kissed her deeply.
"Unh, Fin, let's do it right here!" Melinda moaned.
"Really?" Fin asked.
Melinda nodded. "Yeah, now hurry up! And I'd better get pregnant after this!"
"Okay," Fin said. He backed Melinda up to the examination table and started undressing them. Normally he would have thought having sex in a morgue was a little gross but since it was Melinda he didn't care one bit.
One paragraph later, their clothes were off. "Unh, Mel," Fin grunted as he pushed in.
"Fin," Melinda breathed back. "Harder!"
"I'm coming," Fin said and fluid spilled from him. He then made Melinda come at least four times.
"I hope I'm pregnant now!" Melinda squealed.
"Me too, Melly-Bear," Fin cooed as he hugged her tight.
Elliot walked around his house, bored out of his mind. Kathy and the kids were at his mom's, and they left him so that he could get his work done, but the thing was was that he had too much free time.
Sighing, he walked into Dickie's room and grabbed a few video games. At the top of the pile was a game called Skyrim.
It took him ten tries to get the game started. First he put it in the Wii instead of the XBox. Then he tried to put the disk into the XBox while it was unplugged. Then he put it in upside-down. Then he spent five minutes punching it to try and beat the truth on how to play out of it. Then he sat down calmly and got it to work.
"New game. Yep. Save slot three since that one's empty. Uh-huh," Elliot muttered. He spent three minutes trying to find the start button once the title screen came on.
"This is going to be awesome," Elliot said, grinning, as he leaned back.
Alex Cabot paced around her office. Except, she wasn't Alex right now, she was Emily. This was Emily's office, not hers. It was an insurance office, not the DA's office, and it was for Emily, not Alex Cabot. And she felt out of place, because she wasn't Emily, but she was Emily right now so she was kind of okay with it. But she wanted to be Alex, not Emily.
Since she'd be safe from the Cartel here, Alex/Emily was okay. She guessed. But what about Livvie? Livvie didn't know she was Emily now. She knew Alex was in the witness protection program, but she didn't know Emily was. What if Livvie got worried when she tried to look her up and everything said she was dead? That was the point of witness protection but it was still scary. And what if Livvie got with the ADA brought in to replace her, who was guaranteed to be a woman not named Alex Cabot? Alex/Emily couldn't stand the thought.
"Hey Emily, you okay?" A man asked. She wished she could tell him that it was Alex, not Emily. But that would blow her cover and then she'd have to be relocated to somewhere where her name wasn't Alex OR Emily. And that would be terrible.
"Oh yeah, I'm fine," she said. "Just having a bit of an identity crisis." She smiled, pleased by her own wit. It had taken less than fifteen seconds to think of that, after all!
"Want to get lunch?" He asked.
Alex/Emily deliberated. He was asking Emily, not her. Would it be rude to accept? He wanted lunch with Emily, not Alex, and she was not Emily. But she was, sort of. But she also wasn't. She wished she could ask the marshal in charge of Alex/Emily's case. But he would probably scoff and tell her to get it together or something like that.
"Sure," she finally said. It wasn't even that mean to Olivia because Emily was going to lunch, not Alex. Hey, she thought, maybe this WPP stuff wouldn't be so bad after all. What happened to Emily stayed with Emily and when she became Alex again she could start over!
Casey swung her bat at the ball, over and over again. She hit it out of the park every time. Or would have if it wasn't a batting cage.
Then she biked for three miles and jogged for five. She loved working out more than being an ADA. But she never told anyone that.
She walked into her door and started to wish she could go pro with softball. She was a decent ADA, she knew, and many would tell her she was better than that, except for those who preferred Alex, but she had long since written them off because they'd never give her a chance even if she cured cancer. But she wanted to play sports more. That was what she lived for.
Maybe she could coach little league again so she could get another pretty plaque for her office. And she could wear her awesome sex crimes t-shirt, which was absolutely not awkward. At all.
And then an amazing idea occurred to her. She would start her own softball team! They'd be called The Prosecutors because she knew everyone would agree that that was an awesome name. Now to find some players...
Don Cragen waited impatiently in the legal office. He wished they'd hurry up, because this was important.
He was so tired of seeing Liv aching for a father every single day. It was obvious that at 40-something years old, she needed one more than ever. And a father figure wouldn't count. It had to be official.
He wished he had heard about her when he was 20 so he and Marge could have adopted her. It wasn't like he had any other kids who had died in a plane crash with Marge, after all. It would have been easy as pie.
But this was the best he had. Whenever they were off-duty Olivia always called him Daddy, and he thought of her as his daughter and treated her as such. He would have packed her a lunch of a PBJ sandwich, juice, cookies, and an apple every day if he could have.
But this was the first step to making it right.
He just had to wait for the paperwork to be done so that he was listed as her father. Because he didn't even need Olivia there with him to do it. Nope, he could just go in, give his ID, and get listed as her father and then he could surprise her with the official document.
He glanced at the clock and stretched in his seat. He was in for a long wait but it would be so worth it.
George wandered around the FBI office, where he was often exiled while he waited for someone to talk to him.
"It's not fair," he muttered angrily. "Olivia gets to talk about her personal life all the time. So does Elliot. Munch and Fin have gotten to, the Captain has gotten to, Alex and Casey have- even Warner got her fifteen minutes. But me? All I get to say is that I have a sister and I'm gay, and then everyone demands a profile, and then they scoff that all I do is point out the obvious, or say that there's no way I could know that. Well, I can't do anything better than the obvious unless there's something in the information they give me that isn't obvious, and isn't it my job to know things the detectives don't? I don't know what they want from me. And then they call me arrogant. You'd be confident in your abilities too, if you had been in the room with more than two psychopaths who tried to kill you and had them fail every time."
He hrmphed quietly, folding his arms around his chest. "I've earned the right to be confident. I do the best job that I can but it's never enough. They don't care about my personal life even though they care about everyone else's. They don't even care about me! Well fine. I'm asking for a transfer to Milwaukee. At least no one will make fun of my sweater-vests there. And maybe I can find a life partner there instead of people here insisting that I'm straight and trying to hook me up with Alex or Casey. Anyone with a brain should be able to see that I'm gay as a rainbow."
He walked into his boss's office and dropped off his transfer request, which he knew would absolutely be granted because transfer requests were never denied by any law enforcement agency in existence. Then he left the building and drove back to his apartment. One day, he thought. One day people would appreciate him.
A/N: Continue? Delete and let everyone pretend it was never written? YOU DECIDE- by reviewing and telling me what you think!